


Nothing Heals Me Like You Do

by tryslora



Series: Tumblr Kiss Meme [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kissing, Kissing in the Rain, London Rain, M/M, Mates, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a year since Jackson's parents hauled him to London; he's more than a bit surprised when Derek manages to track him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Heals Me Like You Do

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my tumblr kiss meme for the prompt of Derek/Jackson and kissing in the rain. Three people requested this combination! As always, I do not own the world or characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.
> 
> The title comes from the song "London Rain" by Heather Nova.

“Why are you here?” Jackson sits across the table from Derek, glaring at him. They’re in the back corner of the pub near where Derek first found Jackson, pints ignored on the table between them. “You didn’t stop my parents from taking me a year ago. You didn’t send a single email, you didn’t call. You haven’t cared about me since you _killed_ me. So _why are you here_?” He spaces the final words out, snapping each one sharply.

“I’m here to bring you home.” Derek repeats the same phrase he started with, keeping his voice even. He doesn’t want Jackson to try to read him, to try to slip underneath the words and delve into the meaning. Not when Derek himself isn’t sure he knows how to explain what Deaton had to say the last time they spoke.

“I _am_ home.” Jackson sits back, tilting the legs of the chair up, arms crossed. “My parents are here. My _money_ is here.”

“Your pack is in Beacon Hills.”

Jackson laughs at that, and Derek does his damnedest not to growl.

“My pack.” Jackson shakes his head. “You mean my ex-girlfriend, who’s fucking another werewolf? Or my best friend, who’s fucking that werewolf’s brother? Or maybe you mean the testicle twins, who last I heard were trying to rule the world by sheer force of will while lighting themselves on fire with magic.” He rolls his eyes. “That’s not my pack.”

“I’m your _alpha_.” Derek tilts his head, lets his eyes flash. “I _made_ you, Jackson.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to bow down and lick your boots,” Jackson snarls. “I’m not your puppy and I won’t come when called. So just get yourself to Heathrow, get on a plane, and go back to California without me. I’m happy here.”

Derek hears the small uptick in his heart, and a slow smirk starts. “No, you’re not. You don’t like London.”

“Of course I do.”

And there it is again, a little flicker in the thud of his heart, shifting and changing with the lie.

“You’re not happy.” Derek pokes at it, trying to see what sets off the lie.

“Yes, I am.”

A big lie, the heartbeat rolling over with a sudden shift in cadence before Jackson settles it, and Derek grins widely. “So which part is it that you don’t like? The constant dampness? The local pack? Do you miss me?”

“Who would ever like to live in a place where it rains all the time?” Jackson rolls his eyes.

“The people in _Twilight_.”

“I can’t believe you know that much about _Twilight_.”

“Stiles.” Derek shrugs one shoulder. “And I’m pretty sure he only knows because he wanted to give the pack shit about it. He started a whole Team Derek or Team Scott argument a while back.”

Both of Jackson’s eyebrows rise. “Who won?”

“No one. We combined packs.” Which brings Derek back around to the issues at hand, but he’s not ready to jump in with it yet. He wants to get Jackson talking. “How’s the local pack treating you?”

Jackson snarls. “About as well as expected. The first time my eyes flashed, they declared me a hostile omega and if it weren’t for my parents still thinking I’m human, and thus definitely missed, I would’ve become the victim of a tragic animal attack months ago.”

“Then why not come home?” Derek leans forward. “You hate it here. You miss the pack. You’re miserable. So get on a plane and come home. You can stay at the loft and finish out your senior year, and with any luck, no more teachers will be dying.”

Jackson pushes back from the table, coming gracefully to his feet. “I’m done talking to you. Send my regards to my supposed friends who are too busy with their significant others to bother to email. Have a great flight home.”

Derek lets him go at first. He gives Jackson time to thread through the pub to the door and push through that and into the cold evening air. He gives Jackson time to cool off, probably getting wet in the early evening rain that was just starting when Derek arrived. When he finally follows, Jackson’s scent is bright in the air, intensely obvious to Derek’s nose.

He could find Jackson anywhere. It’s what he did when he arrived in London, after all. The Whittemores have no idea that he’s here.

It’s the scent in the air, lingering even though it’s faint. Derek turns and sets off down the street at an easy lope, ignoring the odd looks he gets from passersby. He nods to one couple when they stare at him, and keeps going until he finds where Jackson stands along the river, looking out over the Thames.

Derek finds a space along the wall next to him and leans on his elbows. “I need you to come home,” he says plainly. “It’s a matter of pack dynamics.”

“They don’t want me there.” Jackson stares down at the water, fingers clenched tightly along his folded arms. His clothes are wet, hair limp against his forehead as the light rain starts getting stronger. “They aren’t my _friends_ and even the ones who were, they’ve moved on. Nobody wants me there, nobody wants me here. I don’t fit in. I’m going to go somewhere else entirely and find a new pack.”

“They want you there.” No, that’s a lie, and Derek breathes through it. He has to fight the rise in his own heart rate, not because he’s lying, but because he’s telling the truth when he says, “I want you there.”

“Why?”

When Jackson cranes his neck to look at him, Derek meets his gaze evenly. “I could give you the long, detailed metaphysical answer that Deaton gave me, or I could give you the short and crude one Stiles provided.” Jackson takes a step back, and Derek snaps his hand out, catching Jackson at the back of the neck, fingers squeezing lightly. Jackson stops immediately.

“Pick an explanation, I don’t care. I’m tired of standing here in the rain,” Jackson growls.

Derek squeezes, palm tight against the nape of Jackson’s neck, fingers lighter as they drift through the damp curls. He tugs, and Jackson stumbles forward, into Derek’s personal space. Derek meets him there, mouth covering his, wet and warm in the chill London rain. He waits for that moment when Jackson whines into his mouth, when the wolf rises, before he gives in and lets himself growl, eyes flashing red. His hand gentles, sliding to Jackson’s shoulder, holding him as he explores the willing mouth, tongue teasing at Jackson’s lips, begging entrance and teasing more when he gains it.

The wolf pricks at Derek’s skin, wanting out, wanting to claim Jackson now that he’s found him; he feels his claws slip out, teeth sharp, and he pulls back.

Bright blue eyes stare back at him. “What the fuck was that?”

“Some wolves have mates.” Derek’s hand flattens at the side of Jackson’s head, and he feels the way that Jackson leans into the touch despite the anger in his expression. “I gave you the bite when I needed someone; you became who I needed.” It’s the closest he can come to something simple, an explanation in between the ones his emissaries offered. “Without you, I’m getting sick. When I say I want you to come home, Jackson, I mean that _I need you_.”

Jackson’s jaw is tight, eyes closed. He turns and slowly noses at Derek’s palm, rubbing his cheek along the skin, then his tongue tip teasing at the soft skin before he nuzzles it again. Jackson swallows visibly. “Fuck. Just… you smell like…”

“Like something you need,” Derek says quietly. “It goes both ways. You’ve been unhappy in London because I’m not here. And the longer you’re away, the weaker I get. If it wasn’t for Scott, the Alpha pack might have—”

“Alpha pack?” Jackson’s eyes are open again, shining blue in the darkness and furrowed in confusion.

“Sounds like you’ve been left out of some explanations. We’ll get you caught up on the way home. But first…” Derek doesn’t bother finishing the sentence. He knows it’s going to take some time for it to settle in, for Jackson to accept this. He’s had an entire flight across the ocean to come to terms with the truth. But for now, he can gather Jackson in, brush his lips with a light kiss, and be thankful when Jackson leans into him, kissing him back.

For now, he can hold onto him, kissing in the London rain.


End file.
